Recitals for Dummies

April showers may bring May flowers, but far more importantly, April 1 is the official beginning of recital season. For those of you readers who are only tangentially aware of this particular season, simply imagine a shake ’n bake combination of wedding season and hunting season, i.e. formal wear, nervous small animals, a problematic [a] vowel, and five hundred people in orange vests with Browning BL-22s.

Recital-related stress tends to manifest itself in a variety of ways, depending on the singer. Some of the most common symptoms are hysterical crying, night sweats, food-related hallucinations (i.e. Pavarotti bathing in olive oil), and a neurotic urge to crawl around looking for high Cs in the carpet.

Some singers are better than others at hiding these symptoms of stress as the date of their recital looms ever nearer, but chances are, they still are teetering on the precipice of an operatic breakdown. The best test is pupil dilation: once those babies hit the size of quarters, it’s probably a good time to hit the singer over the head with your “Tännhauser” score…just to provide some perspective.

Surprisingly, I myself have been suffering from some unfortunate symptoms related to stress, particularly, an obsessive preoccupation with the term “recital.” As of this moment, I am still mulling over the fact that if you remove the letter “i,” you have a much more accurate description of the excremental nature of voice recitals.

But really, such overwhelming stress is completely unnecessary. If anything, huddling into a fetal position to escape the image of Pavarotti playing warship in Bertolli Extra Virgin is only going to distract from the more important preparations for your recital, such as watching fifty episodes of “West Wing” to solidify the emotion behind your Schubert set or calculating which pair of high-heels would be the most aero-dynamically supportive of the final high note in your Rossini aria.

Of course, mere will power isn’t enough for a singer to overcome their recital neuroses and focus on what really matters. But don’t worry, Lily is here to save the day, this time with a solution for every single recital concern you could possibly have.

Music: Unfortunately for many of us, you simply cannot put on a recital without singing at least fifty or sixty minutes of music. This, of course, means that you actually have to PICK fifty or sixty minutes of music.

The best thing to do is to pick a theme that really inspires you. Not some rainbow-sunshine theme like “Songs about Love” or “Voices of Women,” but something that truly expresses your inner sensibility. Two such examples: “Songs that Are So Bad They Make Me Want to Stab My Pianist With a Tuning Fork” and “Songs Written by Composers Who Were Addicted to Paste in the Third Grade and Then Changed Their First Name to Harold.”

Or my personal favorite: “Songs that William Wallace Would Have Sung if He Were an 18th Century French Opera Singer with Mommy Issues Instead of Mel Gibson in a Kilt.”

Memorization: Once you have selected a theme for your recital, you have to be sure to memorize each song in your program. Some people recommend writing out the lyrics on flashcards and quizzing yourself, while others suggest going on a strict starvation diet until you can repeat each phrase backward.

My suggestion is to scrap these tired memorization techniques and take advantage of the Chamber Music Loophole. This oh-so-helpful rule allows a singer to use a music stand for any and all chamber music pieces, thus ensuring that you don’t have to waste precious hours of the day on memorization.

And if your recital program doesn’t include any chamber music pieces? Trust me, Schubert and Strauss would surely have preferred their art songs performed with a tambourine obbligato.

Dress: The gown that you wear for your recital is far more crucial than anyone thinks. Not only does it give you an opportunity to look fabulous (and perhaps finally close the deal with that baritone), it also provides a helpful vocal safety net by ensuring that the audience will be so dazzled by the number of sequins on your bodice that they won’t even listen to the first three sets of your performance.

If the second half of your recital is just as problematic as the first, the halfway point might be a good time for a costume change (perhaps with twice as many sequins).

Audience: According to tradition, a voice recital isn’t much good if you don’t have an audience of at least 20-40 people. Parents, siblings, boyfriends (if more than one is invited, I highly recommend assigned seating), voice teachers, conservatory colleagues…their presence in the recital hall weighs heavily on a recitalist’s already dangerously heightened nerves.

As far as recitals are concerned, I am a proponent of the “less is more” mentality when it comes to the audience, simply to cut down on the possibility of multiple fainting fits backstage. By all means, invite friends, family, and teachers to your recital. Just be sure to tell them the wrong location.


So there you have it. If you know what to do, recitals are really no big deal.

For all of you singers who have recitals coming up, break a leg, toi toi toi, and in bocca al lupo!

And that reminds me…

Don’t forget to come to my recital on Tuesday, April 21st at 6:30pm…

…in Yamoussoukro.

C-flat My Valentine?

February 14th is a day that some people dread with every fiber of their being.  The plethora of lace-edged hearts and trite love poems, red roses, and mobs of lovey-dovey couples tossing small nougat-filled chocolates at each other...really, it's enough to make anyone try to use a Russell Stover box as a plunger.

If you have a lover/partner/baritones, you are required by law to spend the evening as Robert and Elizabeth Barrett Browning, i.e. feeding each other chocolate-covered strawberries and limiting your conversation to words that rhyme with "love," "snuggle," and "canoodle."

If, on the other hand, you are currently between lovers/partners/baritones, you are forced to endure the personal humiliation of an evening spent at home, watching "When Harry Met Sally," drinking from a heart-shaped bottle of whiskey, and reminding yourself that, in addition to not getting into any summer programs, you are going to die alone and unloved, surrounded by twelve cats named Bach.

Don't get me wrong...I happen to adore chocolate, and I have been known to wear the color red on occasion.  In fact, I even wrote a Valentine love poem to Charlie Anderson in the ninth grade along the lines of: "I want your body.  You're such a hottie."  (For some reason, he changed his phone number and filed a restraining order the next day, but I really think that we had a connection.)

And, though it may be hard to believe, Valentine's Day does serve an important purpose to our society.  First, it helps fill in the depressing holiday gap between Christmas and the 4th of July.  Second, it reminds us that expensive cardiologists are unnecessary because the heart is actually a two-dimensional symbol surrounded by lace.  Third, it helps our beloved country maintain its Olympiad status of obesity.  Huzzah!

In essence, what truly enrages me about Valentine's Day is the extent to which opera singers are cut out of the holiday.  Three hundred and sixty-four days of the year, we are the experts on love: whether it's romantic love, carnal love, parental love, incestuous love, perverted love, intellectual love, culinary love...you name it, we sing it in our opera houses.

But then, when February 14th rolls around, the civilians decide to mutiny against our romantic monopoly and take matters into their own hands.  And what is the result of this heavy-handedness?  Coconut-flavored chocolates and Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On."

With that in mind, I have taken it upon myself to reinvent Valentine's Day as a holiday that can be celebrated best by opera singers.  Russell Stover and Hallmark will continue to churn out chocolates and banal poems, but, for this year at least, I have created a few Lily Puns replacements for those painful Valentine traditions.

Box of chocolates:

Buy a box of Mozartkugeln and write a short note that reads: "Batti, batti, but my love for you is come scoglio."

If your inclinations are more toward early music, you might want to consider accompanying your chocolate with: "I love your well-tempered clavicle, so I'll definitely be Bach" or "If I don't get a Handel on you, my heart will be baroque."

Or, for a more generic Valentine saying, I would recommend either: "Roses are red, charcoal is black, I just don't like your vocal attack" or "Roses are red, votes need a ballot, my teacher says that you need more palate."

Seductive sonnet for a handsome baritone/tenor

Perhaps you've noticed how I look at you

At school, in class, especially when you sing

I've spent some time constructing plans to woo

A bari-tenor.  You are just the thing!

Your dulcet tones are sweet, the truth be told

But even more, I like the way you place

Your vowels up front, your [i] and [a] so bold.

I've just so glad that you are not a bass.

I think you might be dating someone new

But honestly, her high notes are quite weak.

My Mimi, Tosca, Anna, and Lulu

Make hers sound like a toilet with a leak.

So drop the broad, and be my Don Jose

We'll sing a duet Valentine, okay?

Break-up sonnet for your current baritone/tenor so that you are free to pursue the handsome baritone/tenor mentioned above:

Oh God, I cannot stand it any more.

We're done, we're through, you owe me last month's rent

You weren't that smart and really such a bore,

But, worst of all, your voice was nightmare sent.

While we were close, I felt the need to lie.

You tried your best (I guess) at singing well,

But when you'd vocalize, I'd want to die...

Eight months with you was tantamount to Hell.

Your tone is harsh and thick, you tend to crack,

And as for pitch, you might as well be deaf.

Your low notes wobble with the breath you lack;

Your high notes shriek and struggle at mere F.

So that's my reason: simply, straight, and true...

My vocal taste demands much more than you.

Show me the money!

During the first few days of 2009, I had high hopes for my bank account. Things have been tight, to be sure, but the New Year, new President, and new national optimism would surely result in a few extra zeros magically appearing at the end of my check book balance. At the very least, I figured that Mr. Obama would stop by and give me a coupon to Denny's.

Alas, my grasp of economic theory has never been strong. Instead of watching my wallet swell with additional Grants and Franklins, I instead have been watching opera houses close, small businesses fall into financial ruin, and Britney Spears make a come-back – all horrific signs of an economy that now has the stability of expired cottage cheese.

Sadly, the time has long since passed when I prepared for such disasters by stashing sweaty dollar bills between pages 386 and 387 of "Anna Karenina" and plucked out my gold fillings for safe keeping in the toe of my left bunny slipper.

Still, always the optimist, I have decided to take this economic down-spiral as a chance to refine my craft. I have happily turned "Yes We Can" into "Yes We Can Subsist Solely on $1 Hot Pockets" as a way to really grasp the character of Mimi, sunken temples and all. Plus, the yellowish tinge to my skin has done wonders to highlight the jewel tones of my favorite ball gown, and my consumptive fainting fits as Violetta have never been more realistic.

Perhaps you think that I am approaching this economic crisis from a slightly skewed perspective. I simply should tighten my corset strings, hold my head and soft palate high, and get a regular job like the rest of you.

Pish and posh! Please do not offend my artistic sensibilities with such a suggestion! Hot pockets and scurvy are one thing, but a civilian job is something else entirely. Let me assure you that my wallet could never shrink to such a wasted shadow of its former self to require a step of such drastic proportions.

So, instead, I have come up with several cunning plans that will supplement a limited "-ina/-etta" income without betraying any operatic inclinations.

1) Find an elderly gentleman who keeps his cash safely stored in an old Bud Light bottle beneath his front porch. Transfix said gentleman with a rousing rendition of "Glitter and Be Gay" until he begins to asphyxiate, then take the money and run. If you feel guilty at such gold-digging behavior, remind yourself that "Candide" isn't really an opera and you can't be held responsible for your actions.

2) Lock yourself in the airplane bathroom during a transcontinental flight and channel Florence Foster Jenkins as you alternate between the high Es of "Durch Zärtlichkeit und Schmeicheln" and the high Fs of "Der Hölle Rache." By the second hour, the passengers will begin pushing tear-stained $50 bills underneath the door. Just remember to give the pilot ear plugs unless you want to make an unscheduled stop in the Atlantic Ocean.

3) Form a mafia family with your fellow opera singers and go to the mattresses against all of the a cappella groups in the country. If they refuse to pay monthly dues for "protection" against awkward harmony and flat singing, send them to sleep with the Rhine Maidens.

4) Rip out the pages of your least favorite opera aria anthology and sign each page as Johann Sebastian Bach. Dip them in a bath of jasmine tea and Slippery Elm cough drops for effective aging, and then sell those puppies on Ebay for $5,000 a pop. If anyone asks you, assure them that Bach did, in fact, write "The Rake's Progress."

5) Write a self-help book brimming with nuggets of operatic wisdom. Assume a suitably punny pseudonym and then sell it to other opera singers for an absurdly high price.

There you have it: five foolproof ways to beat the economic odds, all while maintaining your elegant opera singing persona.

But these are only the first five of hundreds of brilliant strategies, all described in full detail (with color illustrations) in my new book, "Lily Puns: Surviving the Hindenburg of Economic Recessions While Maintaining Your Charmingly Tremulous Trills," only $39.99 if you order now!

Or buy a copy for one of your friends, and get two books for the low price of $89.99!

Don't miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to solve your financial problems!

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